


As far as Curses Go

by natcat5



Series: Dark Month 2015 [15]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Young Avengers
Genre: Curses, Daemons, Gen, Soul Manifestation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natcat5/pseuds/natcat5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Someone has cursed the inhabitants of Midgard,” Thor says, voice grave, “To bear their souls outside of their bodies, unprotected and unconcealed. Free to prying eyes, and free to be subjected to harm and ill-intent.” </p><p>“Right, yeah, I got that part,” interrupts Tony, “But are you seriously telling me that the physical representation of Captain America’s soul isn’t a bald eagle? I call bullshit.” </p><p>Steve glares. The dusky brown husky at his feet also glares. </p><p>MCU-verse gets 'cursed' daemons. </p><p>(This is an MCU fic, but is blended with a few characters and elements from the comics)</p>
            </blockquote>





	As far as Curses Go

**Author's Note:**

> As I said, this is an MCU fic. The only real fusion with the comicverse is with the Young Avengers comics. However, you don't have to be familiar with that, as all character relations are explained in text. 
> 
> The only people I don't really explain aren't really in the fic. And those are Doctor Stephen Strange, who is Sorcerer Supreme and the go to guy about magic and mysticism, and Kate Bishop, who is Hawkeye the younger and is Clint's partner and protege. She is also a member of the Young Avengers. 
> 
> Another thing to note- MCU Wanda and Pietro came across as very young to me. I put them at like 19-21? In this fic Wanda is about 23. I just felt that was important to point out in case there are comic readers, since in comic verse she's older and like, mature.

“Someone has cursed the inhabitants of Midgard,” Thor says, voice grave, “To bear their souls outside of their bodies, unprotected and unconcealed. Free to prying eyes, and free to be subjected to harm and ill-intent.”

“Right, yeah, I got that part,” interrupts Tony, “But are you seriously telling me that the physical representation of Captain America’s soul _isn’t_ a bald eagle? I call bullshit.”

Steve glares. The dusky brown husky at his feet also glares.

“It is not the perception of ourselves that these manifestations represent,” Thor continues, authoritative and confident, as if he doesn’t have a spider monkey perched on his head. “They are a reflection of our true selves. Of what truly lies within our deepest hearts and most honest minds.”

Natasha looks at Clint. Clint does not look at Natasha. Natasha has a regal snow leopard stretched out on the couch beside her, tail flicking languidly. Clint has some sort of stoat thing wrapped around his neck, looking like it’s trying very hard not to be insecure about being a stoat-thing. Across the room, Bruce has his glasses off, and is rubbing the bridge of his nose. There is a Canadian goose stalking around in front of him, looking as agitated as Bruce is trying not to convey.

“Okay, seriously, I know we have to get to the root of the problem and all that, but we _can’t_ leave this-,” Tony gestures to all of them gathered in the room, to all the animals beside them, to the cat sitting at his feet. “-untalked about. Seriously, a cat? I think someone switched me and Natasha’s.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, the leopard behind her mirrors the look. With its leopard face. It’s really, really weird to look at. The cat at Tony’s feet, long-haired and mottled grey-brown, turns its face away and begins grooming, like it’s trying to seem disinterested in the situation.

“No, no, I think it’s about right,” says Rhodey, grinning from where he’s leaning on a counter on the other side of the room, a reddish-brown hawk on his shoulder. “A standoffish animal that doesn’t come when its called, keeps odd hours, is friendly until it isn’t, will let you give it affection on its terms only, and sits on your books, your work, your food, and your face when it wants attention? Tony, man, I’m sorry. I guess I know now why you’ve never been a dog person.”

Clint snickers. Tony glowers. The cat puffs up.

“Baseless accusations,” he sniffs, faux offended, “And what the hell is that furry slinky around your neck anyways, Barton? Sure as hell doesn’t look like a hawk to me. You and Rhodey switch codenames?”

“It’s a _mongoose_ ,” hisses Clint, the furry slinky in question standing up on its hind legs and perching on his shoulder, “And they’re acknowledged hunters known for taking down King Cobras and other venomous predators. What’s furball over there known for hunting, balls of lint?”

Natasha watches them snipe back in forth with an easy smirk on her face. The big cat beside her turns its gaze onto Clint’s mongoose, whose fur is bristling and is crouched on all fours. In a single smooth movement, the leopard rises, stepping over Natasha to bump the mongoose with its head in an affectionate, but rebuffing movement. The smaller animal turns its body into the movement, and allows itself to be knocked off of Clint’s shoulder.

All eyes are immediately on them. Clint stops speaking abruptly, and he locks eyes with Natasha, whose amused expression has faded into something startled and unnerved.

Tony too, is rendered speechless for a moment, before he regains his footing and smirks.

“Well, well,” he comments, teasing, “Guess these things aren’t too good at keeping secrets, huh?”

“Oh, can it, Stark,” mutters Clint, even as his mongoose settles happily between the forepaws of Natasha’s leopard, curling into a relaxed ball.

“I can see this becoming very embarrassing, very quickly,” mutters Bruce, more to himself than anyone else. But Thor hears, and turns to him, a blinding smile on his face. His monkey clambers down to hang off his arm, swinging back and forth.

“Nay, not so!” he expresses jovially, moving across the room to clap a firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “While having one’s soul bared can propose certain dangers, ‘tis true, it allows for honesty, and for the full expression of one’s true feelings. Did we not all know that Natasha and Clint were close? There are no secrets here, just a confirmation of what was already known.”

Clint is looking a little red around the ears. Natasha looks aloof, but in a practiced way. Bruce looks like he regrets everything.

“Be that as it may,” Steve says, speaking for the first time, “Someone’s done this on purpose, and we can’t assume their intentions were benevolent. Thor, is their any way to find the source of the spell? To track down the person who did this?” The husky standing beside him is at full attention, ears upright and tail raised. It looks like a police dog, ready to track down a scent. It’s a little hilarious.

“The spellwork required for such a unique, and widespread curse must have been enormous,” Thor replies, his spider monkey stilling in its movements to perch more pensively on his shoulder. “I imagine whoever is responsible is recuperating at the moment, hidden from view. But you are right, Captain. We must find them immediately, lest there be a more malevolent phase two to their plan.”

“If it’s magic, shouldn’t we get the witch in here?” asks Rhodey, brow raised. “Even if she can’t do it herself, she can get that other guy involved. The Doctor who’s not actually a doctor.”

“He has a degree in Psychology,” Bruce offers, still looking uncomfortable, his goose shifting from foot to foot, “And Wanda and Pietro haven’t come in to the tower today. They’re both at the house they have in Jersey. Steve, you touched base this morning, right?”

Steve nods, “They’ve both been affected as well. The sudden wave of magic left Wanda disoriented. Pietro said she’s sensitive to those kinds of things. They should be here within the hour, however. He said they’d teleport in by the afternoon.”

“ ‘Teleport in’,” Clint mutters, “I’ll never get used to having crap like that as standard terminology.”

“Until then, we should work on keeping panic to a minimal,” Natasha adds, one hand stroking the fur on her leopard’s back. “Steve, you should arrange for an impromptu press conference. Let everyone know we’re looking in to it.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for some kind of lead before we do that?” asks Tony, eyebrow raised, “What’s he going to say to them, exactly. ‘We have no idea what caused this, but don’t be alarmed, we are reasonably certain we will find the culprit before it gets worse?’”

\--

“The Avengers are investigating this phenomenon,” Steve says into the mikes and cameras in front of him, “And while we have yet to find out the exact cause, we have leads and information that will ensure we find the source before anything more extreme can occur. We urge everyone to remain calm, and trust that the situation will be resolved.”

“I can’t believe him. I honestly can’t believe him,” Tony mutters, watching the press conference from a flat screen on his floor in the Tower.

“Well, he has one of those faces the people just _believe,_ ” says his cat, who told him her name is Naomi, because these things have names apparently. “If the Golden Captain tells us it’s okay, who are we to disagree?”

Tony snickers. She’s voiced what he was thinking. She tends to do that. Sometimes she even says things he hadn’t _realized_ he was thinking. That can be a bit annoying, actually. He’s glad that she only seems to talk when they’re alone.

“He’s keeping his dog out of view,” Tony comments, watching Steve skillfully deflect prying questions from the nosy reporters. “Is he afraid there’ll be riots if America’s golden boy doesn’t have something patriotic as his spirit animal thing?”

“Spirit animal is offensive, you know it too, don’t say things that would get you in trouble around others,” Naomi admonishes, ignoring the scowl she gets for her troubles. “And you know he’s avoiding stirring up unnecessary trouble. No need to get everyone riled up over an internet debate on whether Captain America’s soul being a dog means he’s servile and domesticated.”

And sometimes Naomi cuts right past all the sarcasm and bluster, and is so brutally honest that it makes him feel a little uncomfortable and exposed. Tony stares at her, where she’s sitting regally on top of the coffee table, looking like she’s aware that he’s a little unsettled, but choosing not to acknowledge it.

“My my, Stark, your Daemon appears to have more sense than you. Does this mean your foolish guise is truly just an act?”

Naomi startles and darts across the table, jumping onto Tony’s shoulder, her fur fluffed. Tony jumps a little at the suddenness of the interruption, but recognizes the voice, turning with a tight smile to meet it.

“Ah, Wanda!” he greets, enthusiasm blatantly insincere, “So glad you could make it! Also, did you see that petition I circulated that said you and your brother should wear bells so everyone can hear when you enter a room? I got it to a hundred signatures.”

Wanda purses her lips and rolls her eyes. She’s dressed in civilian clothes, though still all in reds. There’s a dark bird with orange, nearly red eyes lurking on her shoulder. An owl of some sort, which is more than fitting, considering her code name.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, Stark,” she says flatly. She still doesn’t like him. Years on the same team and she still, really doesn’t like him. Her owl’s partially puffed up and everything, jeez.

“Steve is busy, and Natasha is occupied. So I’m checking in with you,” she explains, standing in the entrance to the room with her arms folded across her chest. “I can’t trace the magic myself, and I’ve been unable to get a hold of Doctor Strange. He is most likely meditating in another dimension.”

“Because that is a thing that people do,” Tony mutters exasperatedly, “So we’re back to square one then?”

“Not entirely,” Wanda replies, “I was planning on calling Billy, since I can’t find Strange. Neither of us is exactly experienced, but two heads are better than one, and we should be able to come up with a plausible hypothesis together. At the very least, our combined abilities will have a better chance of tracking the magic signature.”

“Ah, right, Billy,” Tony pauses and exchanges a look with Naomi. She gives the cat equivalent of a shrug, and Tony turns back to Wanda, one eyebrow raised. “Who’s Billy again?”

Wanda stares at him. And stares at him some more. Her owl mirrors the gaze, huge blood orange eyes wide and unblinking. It’s a real, _you must be joking_ look, which fades into one of supreme discomfort, her expression uneasy and her owl shifting from foot to foot. The witch mutters something under her breath in Sokovian before taking a deep breath and fixing him with a hard look.

“Billy,” she begins slowly, “Is my reincarnated son from an alternate reality. He was born into another family when I rewrote reality in order to bring him and his brother back to life. Because, in an alternate world where Pietro was dead and the Vision and I were married, I had twin sons that were murdered by a demon who was after my magic. I tried to bring them back, and ended up creating a new reality where Pietro was no longer dead, Vision and I had never married, and my twin sons had been reborn to other families, and were now teenagers. Billy and I found each other by accident, before we knew of this, and maintained a correspondence as we had similar powers. He’s a reality warper like me. And that’s why I’m going to talk to him.”

Tony stares. Wanda sighs.

“When I explained this to you before,” she continues, “Your exact response was ‘oh my god what. I hate magic. This is ridiculous. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that. La la la none of that happened goodbye I’m going to go memorize some formulas and pretend the world still makes any sense’. And then you left the room.”

The owl on her shoulder snickers. Tony blinks rapidly.

“Well, that. Uh.” He blinks some more. “Right. Billy. Of course, uh.”

Oh god he does remember, vaguely. Wasn’t Scott’s daughter mixed up in all that as well? Like Wanda thought she was supposed to be five and was surprised that she was a teenager? Ugh. Tony really, really hates magic.

“So you can tell the others that I’m looking into it,” she finishes, turning, “And we’ll find the one who did this in due time.”

 

\--

 

Wanda : Billy

Wanda : From what I sensed of it, this spell does not seem malevolent.

Wanda : I just want to make sure that,

Wanda : Well.

Billy : I DIDN’T DO IT

Wanda : Okay, I had to check!

Billy : I mean

Billy : I am REASONABLY SURE that I didn’t do it

Wanda : ;-_-

Billy : you know how our magic is!!

Billy : are you reasonably sure that YOU didn’t do it?

Wanda : Billy

Wanda : yes.

Wanda : I am sure.

Wanda : at least 80% sure.

Billy : that is 20% unsure

Wanda : you know how our magic is.

Billy : ^-^

Billy : So is what Cap said on tv true? Physical manifestations of souls?

Wanda : As far as I can tell, yes. We cannot be separate from the creatures for more than a meter or two, and having anyone else touch them generally brings a sense of deep internal revulsion. I haven’t tested what happens if a Daemon is killed, but their person is not harmed. I can only guess it’s unpleasant.

Billy : oh, you’re calling them Daemons too? weird that’s the name I thought of too

Billy : mine’s a raven, which is pretty cool! her name’s Merga.

Billy : do you know why they have names?

Billy : and what the name’s mean?

Wanda : No, I do not.

Wanda : A stygian owl, his name is Eliphas.

Wanda : He is also very cool.

Billy : witch familiars all around *sunglasses emoji*

Wanda : Ha!

Wanda : indeed *sunglasses emoji*

Wanda : I was hoping we could meet up today,

Wanda : see if we can trace the magic together.

Billy : yeah sure!

Billy : I woke up pretty disoriented this morning so I haven’t tried

Billy : but if you want to meet up we can have a magic jamming session and give it a whirl

Wanda : I woke up disoriented as well. Hm.

Billy : we are sensitive to these kinds of things

Billy : unless you think it means something else?

Wanda : I’m not sure.

Wanda : I feel like it certainly isn’t something we should ignore.

Wanda : I wish we had a third magically inclined party to confer with. It would be helpful if Strange could make himself available from wherever he’s disappeared to.

Billy : Really? I don’t.

Billy : I bet you if he was around he’d 100% blame us. I can do without that level of condescension and distrust in my life

Wanda : He is still unsettled by the fact that I warped reality to such a degree, with little repercussions.

Wanda : And that his alternate reality counterpart was unable to sense or stop it.

Wanda : And that you have the same potential, despite having such an improbable existence, and being so young.

Wanda : he’ll come around.

Billy : I dislike being judged by his eyebrows. If he pops up and points those eyebrows at me, I’m teleporting to the other side of the country.

Billy : so are you coming here? Or am I coming to meet you?

Billy : I know I’m not really supposed to come around the tower

Wanda : That’s not true. I enjoy your company here.

Billy : Okay, but everyone else doesn’t like me around the tower because I make them uncomfortable.

Wanda : And what do we care about everyone else?

Billy : Ha, true.

Billy : But nah, it’s no worry. My parents are at work and the brothers are at school. I stayed home because I was so loopy this morning

Billy : Teddy’s here though!

Wanda : Your boyfriend the shapeshifter?

Wanda : I’m interested in how this affected him. He’s not human at all, correct? Completely extraterrestrial? Does he have a daemon regardless? Can it change shape?

Billy : Oh my gosh

Billy : wanda

Billy : you’ll NEVER believe Teddy’s daemon.

Billy : There are these HUGE scary bear dogs called Tibetan mastiffs and they look like they eat small countries for breakfast

Billy : but when they’re not snarling they have the absolute cutest faces and are super fluffy and adorable???

Billy : it’s so perfect for teddy I can’t even.

Billy : no she can’t change shape she’s like the rest of the daemons but she has the most perfect shape ever so it’s fine

Billy : I’ve taken like 40 pictures of them look here’s Teddy and Helena

Billy  sent IMG_53

Billy : Is that not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?? Look at that face.

Wanda : ^_^ yes it is indeed super fluffy

Billy : I was talking about Teddy

Wanda : Billy

Billy : Right! Sorry!

Billy : I know this is serious.

Billy : There are serious dangers to having your soul bare like this.

Billy : No matter how cool it initially seems.

Wanda : The sooner we find the cause and reverse the spell the better, I think.

Wanda : I’ll teleport over in just a moment, so we can have that magic jamming session and try and figure this out.

Wanda : As interesting a phenomena as it is, we can’t deny there will be many who find this well and truly inconvenient.

 

\--

 

The defendant is _literally_ shaking in his chair.

“Just tell us where you were the night of Mr. Sittre’s murder,” Foggy says, for the third time, trying really hard not to look exasperated. “Sir, it’s okay. She’s not going to hurt you. Just pretend she isn’t there.”

The defendant’s daemon, a gecko of some sort, is so paralyzed with fear that it hasn’t moved or blinked in over a minute. The defendant isn’t in much of a better state.

“I-I,” he stammers, eyes glued to Matt, and to the animal behind him. “I-I am s-so sorry. J-just p-p-please, u-uh, u-uh...”

The defendant continues stammering incoherently. Foggy rubs his forehead, and shares a glance with the seahorse swimming around in the glass bowl on the table in front of him. Then he looks beside him, to his partner, whose unflappable demeanor is flapping, just a little. With a sigh, he turns back to their terrified client.

“Sir,” Foggy tries again, “My partner is a trained professional who only has your best interest in mind. Pay no attention to the eight foot tall Grizzly bear standing behind him. Let’s proceed as if this whole animal soul business wasn’t even a thing, alright?”

This ‘animal soul business’ is quite possibly the most frustrating thing Matt has ever faced. Forgetting how disorienting it is to have to reconcile his senses with the sudden appearance of millions of new, distinct animals, that can talk and react in a human way, his own daemon is alarmingly inconvenient. A _grizzly bear._ The irony had had Foggy laughing all morning. Unassuming, quiet and aloof blind lawyer Matt Murdock, had a giant, territorial and confrontational apex predator as the manifestation of his soul. _Your mild-mannered cover is so blown,_ Foggy had snickered.

And he’s right, in a way. There’s no way he can go out as Daredevil. Not with Tiresia, as huge and distinct as she is. He can’t be a swift and silent vigilante with a _bear_ lumbering after him.

Matt can’t hold back his sigh for any longer. Unfortunately, Tiresia mimics the sound, which comes out more as a growl when she does it. The defendant’s eyes grow to the size of dinner plates, right before he faints dead away.

“Right then,” mutters Foggy, while Matt drops his head into his palm, “No further questions.”

 

\--

 “You are definitely overreacting,” Darcy says, cracking a cookie in half and handing a piece to the banded raccoon on the counter beside her. “It’s not that bad! Aren’t there like, tons of scientist paper things saying how they’re super clever, underrated animals? You should be flattered.”

“Darcy, it’s an _octopus,_ ” Jane stresses, gesturing to the cephalopod in the bucket to her right. “How am I supposed to be flattered that my soul is an octopus? I have to carry him around in a bucket!”

“No, you _choose_ to carry him around in a bucket,” counters her assistant, “You _could_ carry him around in a super cool custom glass purse or something. Or an aquarium on a skateboard. Personally, I think you’re offending him by sticking him in such inglorious living conditions.”

“The handle on the bucket makes it the most suitable in terms of convenience,” says the octopus, talking to Jane, “I understand, don’t worry.”

“If you had to carry _me_ around in a bucket, I’d at least want you to bedazzle it,” Darcy’s raccoon whispers into her ear.

“Thor’s so excited,” Jane moans into her hands, “He is _so_ excited about all of this and he’s sent me dozens of photos of him and his adorable monkey. A cute, furry animal that’s probably soft and fun to cuddle. And I’m supposed to send him back a picture of an _octopus?”_

“Janey, if it’s possible to hurt your own soul’s feeling, you’re probably well on your way to succeeding,” Darcy criticizes, pointing her cookie half at her friend, “Seriously! Be a good scientist and don’t judge something by its slimy and multiple-tentacled appearance. What do we know about octopuses? Octopussies? Octopi? Whatever.”

The octopus in the bucket shifts a little, looking up at Jane. It’s the same shade as the blue bucket, but occasionally it shifts momentarily to something closer to maroon, before changing its shade back. A few of its tentacles are hanging over the edge, water dripping onto the counter.

Jane looks at her octopus. It keeps staring back.

“Adaptability,” she says, finally, “Resourcefulness. Being unassuming at first glance. Problem-solving. Capable of complex and flexible behavior. The need to explore and constantly learn from their environment. Being so weird that some scientists believe they might be aliens. Reports are varied. Octopuses are notoriously unusual and varied in their behavior.”

“See, that’s like, your biography!” Darcy exclaims, “Don’t get caught up in the sliminess of it. Just be excited that your soul or whatever is one of the most highly debated, highly studied, conundrums of the animal kingdom. I mean, it makes sense that your animal representation whatever would be of something that makes scientists scratch their heads. Totally fitting.”

Jane exhales. She stares down at the bucket and extends a hand, allowing her octopus to reach out and curl one of its tentacles around her fingers.

“Well when you say it like that,” she says, smiling a little, “And he is kind of cute, in a non-vertebrae way.”

\--

 

Billy : hey sorry you had to poof out like that

Billy : darn inconsiderate dad coming home early to check on his ailing child

Wanda : It’s alright, we weren’t getting anywhere with the tracing spell anyways.

Wanda : I still think you should tell them.

Billy : it is pretty awkward that he thinks you’re some older college girl who either has a crush on me or pities me

Billy : but I’ll save the ‘mother from another reality’ conversation for another time

Billy : what are you going to do now?

Wanda : Do some reading, back at the Tower.

Wanda : It was odd how our attempts at tracing it just rebounded back on us. Spells don’t usually do that.

Wanda : I’m going to spend some time in my library there, see if I can turn anything up.

Billy : Alright, keep me posted!

Billy : oh yeah, I mean, I saw the official press conference, but how are The Avengers dealing with this whole animal soul thing anyways?

Wanda : Hm.

Wanda : Varyingly.

 

\--

 “It’s not about secrets,” Clint grumbles, “It’s about- see? That? That’s like, a public display of affection. And we’re not about that. It has nothing to do with ‘secrets’.”

Natasha just smiles, slow and languid, as she looks at what Clint’s gesturing towards. Her leopard, Bessumnyj, stretched out on the floor peacefully and content, with Clint’s mongoose Eloize curled on top of his paws. The leopard is softly passing its tongue over the top of Eloize’s head, while the mongoose makes soft, sleepily pleased sounds.

“Yes, I imagine a sight like that could cause a stir,” Natasha comments, amused.

She’s not as upset by this as some might expect her to be. She is a private person, it’s true, but so much of her life was founded around secrecy. Around lies and truths that weren’t really true. The collapse of SHIELD and the outpouring of all of its secrets onto the internet had destroyed that for her, and ensured that such a life would never exist for her again. It’s been hard, but she’s begun to embrace it.

It’s true, she doesn’t much like the idea of having an embodiment of herself trotting at her side, bare for the world to see. But she’s not as upset about her relationship with Clint being put on display. Perhaps it’s because it is and always has been platonic, no romantic affections attached. Perhaps it’s because it’s well known enough, as Thor said.

Or perhaps it’s because there are still those who say she only indulges him because he saved her life. Because they work together. Because she owes him a debt. That the Widow could never truly care for someone in that way. And could she blame them? She flirts all the time, on jobs, in meetings. It’s a way for her to shift power, or to unbalance men, or to trick them into letting their guard down, depending on what type of flirting she employs. She is barefaced and brashly a false person, with false words, and false faces. She is known for it, the former Russian spy that she is.

So maybe she’s a little pleased, a little gratified, to see her soul so open and brazen about its affections, when she herself cannot be.

“Katie keeps sending me pictures of hers. It’s a _kestrel._ Not a hawk, but a hell of a lot closer to one than a mongoose is,” Clint says, clearly determined to complain about everything today. But his expression softens a little, as he scrolls through the messages on his phone. “But she says that mongoose are known for being badasses despite how non-threatening they look. Oh hey, she sent a video link. It’s of a mongoose scaring off four lions on Youtube? Aw, Katie.”

“Should we tell Wilson to be on his toes, then?” Nat teases. Clint grins crookedly. “Aren’t kestrels a type of falcon? It’s Kate he should be looking out for. Maybe she’s going to go after _his_ codename next.”

It’s the easy banter they always fall into when they’re alone. And Bessumnyj and Eloize mirror it, curled up together, enjoying the warmth of each other’s company.

\--

“Barnes, I’m going to need you to do something about your bird,” Sam says levelly, “Before she wears a hole through my hardwood.”

The bird in question (“A Greater Rhea”, Bucky had said earlier) is trotting back in forth in front of Sam’s door, in front of the huge glass windows, in front of the television, in front of anywhere with enough space for a five foot tall flightless bird to pace. She’s clearly agitated, but Bucky is refusing, or reluctant to acknowledge it.

“I don’t know why she’s doing that,” he says stubbornly, sitting on Sam’s couch and purposefully not watching his daemon stomp about. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Sam rubs the top of his head and bites back a sigh. This whole animal manifestation thing is weird as hell, and one of the weirder things is the ingrained rules that come along with it. Rule one, ‘Don’t touch other people’s daemons. Rule two, ‘You can talk to other people’s daemons, but it’s weird. Kind of creepy actually. A little presumptuous. Don’t talk to other people’s daemons.’ So no, he’s not going to ask Bucky’s agitated bird what’s bothering her. Instead, he sends an imploring look towards his own daemon, Jada, a gorgeous tawny lioness that he is _really_ damn proud of. She stares back with a ‘you’re serious. Man, really?’ look that he recognizes as one of his own, before getting to her feet and padding over to where Bucky’s bird is fluffed up and glaring down the door to Sam’s apartment.

“Gerda,” she says, addressing the Rhea, “Girl, calm the hell down. What’s got you so worked up? C’mon, cool your shit for a second. What’ll Sam tell Stark if he has to order in new flooring for this place? Be considerate for half a goddamn second. And don’t bottle your negative crap up, it’s rude.”

Bucky raises an amused eyebrow, and Sam presses his lips together, choosing not to comment. Yes, okay, his daemon has a bit of a potty mouth. He has no idea where she gets it from. It’s true that Sam isn’t _quite_ as demure and aggressively well spoken as he puts on when he’s trying to impress the Avengers, but he doesn’t swear _that_ much.

Gerda’s feathers puff up some more, and she cranes her long neck around to glare.

“I ain’t worked up,” she defends, “I ain’t, don’t put words inta my mouth. Why, I got half a mind to work you over, gimme a reason, I swear.”

Gerda also has the most prominent, put on, hard Brooklyn drawl Sam has ever heard, and the demeanor to match it. It’s a little hilarious, especially since Bucky seems so embarrassed by it.

“You don’t want a damn fight, stand down and put your claws away,” says Jada sternly. “And stand still for half a second would you? All that wobbling shit you’re doing is giving me a headache.”

“I’ll give ya a headache,” challenges Gerda, and Sam has to drop his head into his hands to hide the way he’s laughing. He can feel Bucky’s glower burning into the side of his skull.

“Gerda,” Bucky says, finally, and the bird immediately snaps to attention, dashing across the room, jumping over Sam, and landing beside Bucky on the couch.

“I ain’t worked up,” she says again, while Bucky runs a hand down her neck. He doesn’t respond, just continues in his soft movements through her feathers.

“It’s alright,” he says, tone softer than Sam’s used to hearing it, “I get it.”

“Oh, so you _do_ know what’s got her so worked up?” Sam asks, and receives another glower for his troubles. Jada pads up beside him, resting her head on his knee.

“You haven’t seen Steve today,” She comments, talking to Gerda, “That’d be something you’d both be upset about. You wondering how you and his dog will get along?”

Gerda puffs up to about twice her size, and Bucky’s eyes go steely. Sam, used to the latter and rapidly becoming accustomed to the former, just looks amused.

“Man, is that really it?” he asks, rubbing Jada between the ears, “You and Steve have known each other for longer than I’ve been on this earth. If you’re worried that having your souls outside your body will reveal some discord in your relationship – don’t be. At worst, you’ll have to deal with his dog cuddling Gerda like a throw pillow or something. You guys are pretty much forever. This isn’t going to mess that up.”

Bucky’s glare dissipates, though his expression remains stubbornly impassive. Gerda, however, the embodiment of all the expression that Bucky himself can’t convey, relaxes immediately, all of her feathers lying flat. She sighs, shifting a little, like she’s not quite willing to believe it. Then Jada moves forward, pushing her nose into the feathers on Gerda’s side for half a second, before moving away, a silent and quick gesture of support. Gerda stares down at her, before making a pleased sound and butting Jada’s head affectionately with her own, rubbing her beak along Jada’s muzzle.

Sam’s eyebrows go into his hairline. He’s worked with Bucky a lot, he’d hesitantly say they’re friends, but there’s a clear bubble around Barnes that he’s not allowed to enter. A distance he’s not allowed to cross. Never mind that Bucky spends most of his time in Sam’s floor in the Avengers tower, since he doesn’t like to ‘bother’ Steve and doesn’t have a floor of his own. Half the time, Sam isn’t sure if Bucky even _likes_ him.

“Gerda,” Bucky says sharply, apparently as caught off guard by the display of affection as Sam is. His bird makes a clucking noise, but retreats from Jada, and goes back to being pressed against Bucky’s side.

An awkward silence descends between Sam and Bucky then, the latter purposefully looking at the floor, and the former rubbing his forehead. This soul manifestation thing is honestly such a headache.

Then Sam remembers Gerda squawking ‘I’ll give ya a headache!’ and can’t stop himself from erupting into a fit of chuckles.

 

\--

 “You want me to program one of the suits to follow you around and carry that?” Tony asks earnestly, “Or like, build an automated moving fish tank that you can control through your phone?”

Pepper gives him an amused, fond look. The beautiful lionfish in the tank on her desk turns in a few lazy circles, fins flaring. Naomi lies beside it, watching its movements with wide eyes, entranced.

“Thank you, Tony, but hopefully this whole mess will be solved before then,” she replies. “Wanda is looking into it, isn’t she? Do you know if she has any leads?”

Actually, Tony ran to Pepper’s office specifically to avoid thinking about Wanda. Down that road lay magic, alternate universe undead reality warping sons, and more headaches than was worth it.

“Wanda’s chasing a lead right now, I’m sure she’ll let us know if it pans out,” he says evasively, and then, “Hey, tell me honestly, do you think these manifestation things are accurate? I mean, I personally saw myself as more of a majestic wolf kind of person-,”

“You are _very_ much a cat person,” Pepper says, laughing a little, “But I’ve always liked cats. And Naomi is very lovely.”

Naomi’s head snaps away from the fishtank and towards Pepper, and she makes a pleased sound, getting up to walk back and forth on the desk in front of Pepper, her tail in the air.

Tony gets a strange, electrified feeling then, like Pepper’s going to touch Naomi. Like Naomi’s _inviting_ Pepper to touch her. It gives him a weird feeling of apprehension and anticipation, and more than anything, it weirds him out.

He moves forwards and scoops Naomi up off the desk and into his arms, ignoring her muffled sound of protest.

“So anyways,” he says, blustering along, “You seen the Vision around? I have to admit, I’m kind of curious as to whether or not this had any affect on him. I mean, would it? Could it? We’ve had these kinds of debates about whether he’s like a ‘person’ person all the time, and this could be the dealbreaker one way or another.”

“And perhaps that’s why he’s choosing to remain absent,” Pepper suggests gently, “We should-,”

There’s a gentle knock on her office door. Just one, before it’s followed by a series of nervous and erratic raps that are far too soft and hesitant for the majority of the Tower’s residents. Tony and Pepper exchange a look.

“Hey Banner, come on in,” Tony calls over, smirking.

The door swings open, revealing the scientist standing there nervously, his Canadian Goose behind his legs, peering around them.

“Bruce,” Tony greets, smiling, and then, dipping his head, “And Goose.”

The Goose ducks her head nervously, and Bruce rubs the back of his head before entering the office.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he apologizes.

“You didn’t,” Pepper assures, “You’re always welcome here, Bruce. Come on, don’t hang around by the door.”

He continues to hang around the door, shoulders nearly around his ears. “Um, everyone seems to have scattered, despite the borderline international emergency, and Fury’s downstairs looking agitated, so I-,”

“Wait, Fury?” Tony interrupts, Naomi’s ears perking up and her whole body freezing with sudden excitement, “Oh my good god, Bruce, what is it. Tell me right now. I have to know. Is it a pitbull? I bet it’s a pitbull. Ten bucks says it’s a pitbull or some variation thereof.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Pepper says, smirking, “A pitbull is way too obvious for a man as secretive as Fury.”

Bruce looks a little flustered. He takes off his glasses and begins cleaning them nervously. “It was, uh, on his head, there was one of those giant moths, the ones with the big eyes on the backs of their wings-,”

“ _No,”_ Tony gasps, and Pepper begins laughing, one hand pressed to her mouth. “Seriously, a moth? It has to be a fake. He’s just trying to screw with us. I don’t believe it. Honestly, I’m really beginning to doubt the legitimacy of these manifestations.”

“I maintain that they’re pretty accurate,” Pepper says, a bit of a laugh still in her voice, “You, a cat. Me, a pretty fish known for being able to defend itself effectively when attacked, for its appearance being deceiving. And Bruce-,”

Bruce stiffens, and his goose shrinks down a little, head ducked nearly under its wing.

“-is a bird known for its protectiveness. For defending its family before anything else. And friends too. If a member of the flock falls behind or is injured, another goose will stay behind and fly with it, so that no one’s ever on their own.” Pepper smiles, “Our Bruce is very dependable.”

Bruce blinks rapidly, before his head ducks down a little. “Oh, uh. Well. Canadian Geese are most famous for their aggression and frequent attack of random passerbys, so-,”

“Not random,” Tony point out, “People who pass too close to their nests or kid-geese. Sure, sometimes they overreact, but it’s all to protect what they care about.”

Bruce opens his mouth to respond, but then promptly shuts it again, blushing.

“They’re accurate,” Pepper repeats, pleased, “Now let’s go see Fury so I can collect my ten bucks.”

\--

 

Wanda is locked up in her library again.

Pietro could have joined her, grabbed a pile of books and sat down beside her, but she looked like she wanted to be alone. It was rare that the Avengers depended on her so totally to accomplish something. She was still fairly new to this magic thing, having begun exploring it in full only a few years prior, and Doctor Strange, self-proclaimed Sorcerer Supreme, leader and master of all things magic and mystical, was generally a better bet for information or spellwork. But he was missing, and she was determined to prove herself of use as the witch on the team. So Pietro opts not to disturb her.

People always look incredulous when he tells them, but Pietro likes reading. Sometimes his processing power speeds up too much, even when he isn’t running, and watching television or even playing a video game becomes unbearably slow. Books always go at the pace you read at, and it’s relieving to have some form of entertainment to fall back on when his brain glitches out on him.

 _That’s what we get for letting scientists experiment on us,_ Wanda would say. Her only inconvenient side effects are occasionally losing track of what’s reality and what she’s changed herself. Sometimes it has minor repercussions, sometimes major.

One of those major repercussions is currently speeding around Pietro’s floor in the Tower, making a nuisance of himself, as usual.

“I thought Stark gremlin-proofed the Tower?” he comments dryly as a blur of green and white speeds around the room, before stopping in place in front of where Pietro’s sitting, a coyote under one arm.

“Aw, Uncle Pete, that’s hurtful,” says Tommy, one hand pressed to his chest, “You could give a guy the impression you don’t want him around!”

Pietro doesn’t understand why Tommy calls his ‘mother’ Wanda but insists on calling him ‘Uncle Pete’. His name is not Pete. He is barely their uncle. Billy just calls him Quicksilver.

Pietro’s fox, a beautiful silver-furred creature, looks amusedly at the coyote Tommy’s carrying, whose fur looks wind-blown and fluffed up. Pietro hasn’t done much running today, unsure of how his fox, his _daemon_ would react to being sped around in such a way. His ‘nephew’ apparently has had no such remonstrations.

It would be easy to dismiss Wanda’s claims about alternate reality reincarnated children, if the boys didn’t have the exact same powers of Pietro and Wanda. If they weren’t identical, despite being born to different families. If they didn’t look so much like Wanda, from their eyes to the shape of their mouths to the way they held themselves.

And, of course, Tommy has the same distinctive hair colouring that Pietro does. It’s all a bit hard to discount. Pietro decided long ago just to believe Wanda and not think too hard about the details. About the universe she remembers, where he was killed by Ultron. It’s easier on all of them that way.

“Ooh, a fox. Uncle Pete, have you been hiding a sly and cunning side?” Tommy asks, grinning obnoxiously, “Gotta say, I find it weird that we both got canids with bad reputations as our soul things. Hey, is Wanda’s daemon a scary looking black bird too?”

 _A Stygian Owl,_ Wanda had said that morning, looking wondrously at the dark coloured bird perched on her wrist. Pietro frowns at the memory, and stubbornly refuses to respond to Tommy’s question. But the teenager laughs, reading the answer in his silence. “It is, isn’t it! Damn, this Maximoff twins version 2.0 thing is getting kind of out of hand.”

“Are you here for a reason, little gremlin, or did you just come to give me a migraine,” Pietro complains. Tommy puts his coyote down and flops against the back of Pietro’s chair, nearly knocking it over.

“What, can’t a guy enjoy his alt-reality’s uncle company?” he asks sarcastically. “You really want to go back to reading alone in an empty room, Uncle Pete? We’re supposed to be the _cool_ twins.”

Pietro counts to ten, and tries to convince himself not to throw the boy out the window.

Under the chair, his fox greets Tommy’s coyote affectionately, standing on her hind legs so that she can lick her over the ears, and rubbing their cheeks together.

“There _is_ a reason for us being here,” says the coyote, Farron,“Tommy feels bad having to carry me around like that when’s running. He was wondering if you and Uncle Pete had come up with a way to make it easier.”

“Pietro’s been avoiding running altogether, actually,” answers the fox, Atalanta, sounding apologetic. Farron sighs.

“He’s not quite the same as Tommy you know. Tommy’s speed was born into him. His brain is sped up all the time. With Pietro it’s only sometimes. He doesn’t feel the same need to run everywhere, for his body to match his brain,” the coyote explains quietly. Atalanta makes a soft whining sound.

“That sounds hard,” she whispers, “Pietro suspects something along those lines, but hasn’t bothered looking in to it.”

“It _is_ hard. I wish Tommy would talk to someone about it,” Farron says, “If nothing else, you can tell Pietro once we go. If they didn’t spend all their time teasing each other, I’m sure they’d find their way to a halfway serious conversation.”

“Pietro really enjoys it,” Atalanta says, smiling, “He’ll never admit it out loud though, so make sure you tell Tommy that as well.”  

Above them, the two speedsters continue their playful, mocking banter, adamantly denying to enjoying spending time in each other’s company.

\--

 

Wanda : Billy?

Billy : yeah?

Billy : how goes the research?

Wanda : Not well I’m afraid.

Wanda : The tracing spell we did should have worked. There’s no good reason it didn’t, and that’s worrisome.

Wanda : Additionally a curse that causes the souls of an entire planet to manifest as animals is apparently unprecedented.

Wanda : It is very much a dead end.

Billy : aw, jeez

Billy : well then what now?

Billy : wait for Strange to come back and glare at us while heavily implying that this is somehow our fault?

Wanda : Not necessarily.

Wanda : And he’s really not that bad.

Billy : I’ll reserve judgment.

Wanda : -w-

Billy : ?

Wanda : You and Pietro are so alike sometimes, it’s scary.

Billy : ew, don’t say that. That’s indirectly saying me and Tommy are alike

Wanda : You are technically twins.

Billy : -__-

Wanda : The two of you get along better than either of you are willing to admit.

Wanda : But we’ll unpack that another day.

Wanda : I texted because I had an idea.

Billy : ? 

Wanda : Remember earlier, when I said that I wanted a third magically inclined party to help? And we only thought of Strange?

Wanda : There is another person we could confer with.

Billy : ????

Wanda : Another magic user, whose specialty happens to be reality warping.

Billy : wait

Billy : there is a person who I just thought of who you cant be thinking of because you’re an Avenger and not supposed to know about Them?

Wanda : They have a magical signature that’s difficult to ignore.

Billy : so you are talking about them? Green? Miniaturized and potentially godly?

Wanda : Yes.

Billy : Oh boy.

Billy : have you told anyone about them?

Billy : Are you mad that I didn’t tell you? Or the Avengers?

Wanda : No.

Wanda : I have seen no reason to. And you are entitled to your secrets. Furthermore, I have no quarrel with them personally.

Wanda : After all, I’m no stranger to having blood on one’s hands.

Billy : :(

Wanda : It’s the truth. Pietro and I have accepted it, and done our best to atone.

Billy : you have atoned

Billy : a thousand times over

Billy : anyone who says differently gets warped to Antarctica

Billy : okay so uh

Billy : you want me to find them and ask them about this?

Wanda : If you can.

Wanda : You are friends, aren’t you?

Billy : …..

Billy : ehhhhhh

Billy : *noncommittal hand wiggle*

 

\--

 

Once upon a time, there was a God. Or an alien whose powers were perceived to be godly, depending on the tale you’re reading.

This God, or alien, discovered unpleasant things about his heritage, came into an unpleasant quarrel with his former family, and made some unpleasant decisions as a result.

This God, or alien, committed treason, staged an invasion of an unsuspecting planet, and caused countless deaths. He was then defeated, tried, and imprisoned for his crimes.

A chance to prove himself came, when his estranged brother needed his assistance to rid the realm of a diabolical evil even more despicable then the God, or alien, himself. And prove himself he did. Fighting valiantly, saving his brother’s beloved, and dying heroically on the field of battle.

But this God, or alien, was known for his tricks. For his deceptions. And in fact, had not died. Before making his deal with Thanos, with the Chitauri, he had prepared a safeguard, a plan Z, in case everything went, as they say, ‘bloody tits up’.

And bloody tits up it had gone indeed. Death, fighting for the cause of ‘good’.

And his safeguard activated.

A cloned body, a younger self. Kept in magic stasis and hidden away until it was needed. At the moment of his death, his consciousness was transplanted into this new body, miles away from imprisonment, from estranged family, from anything that could stand in his way.

But there were problems.

The body was like, twelve. And his magic was proportional. He couldn’t age it up despite his best efforts. But that wasn’t the worst part.

Exposure to the Frost Giants, Thanos’s scepter, they had all wreaked havoc on the God, or alien’s, fragile psyche. On his morals. On his desires and affiliations and empathy. But this new body was untouched, untainted.

It had a conscience.

It was _sorry._

It felt horrifically terrible about _everything._

(It also didn’t feel much like a man anymore, and decided that the human gender binary was stupid and should be ignored)

So they hid. On Midgard. And hoped to whatever God wasn’t family that the Avengers didn’t find out Loki had returned, and do their worst.

Loki- _Kid_ Loki –tried to keep the lowest profile conceivably possible for a twelve year old with mid level magical powers. But, unfortunately, they weren’t the only reality warper in town.

Kid Loki and Billy Kaplan definitely did not meet because they got into a fight over a book on protective runes on the West Side’s only Wicca bookstore. No, that would be ridiculous. It was more like Loki sensed a slight aberration in the fabric of reality, tracked it down, and found its source to be an obnoxiously stubborn teenage boy who just happened to be holding a book that Loki could really, _really_ use.

The encounter led to a near fight in a back alley wherein Kid Loki tried very hard to convince Billy not to call the Avengers on them, succeeding only because Billy cast a spell forcing them to tell the truth. It wore off, but it had been _very_ annoying while in effect.

As a result, Billy didn’t call the Avengers, and Kid Loki helped him out a little with his magic. Despite being, for all appearances, twelve, they did have a millennia worth of magical training under their belt. And their magics were similar. Reality bending, a finicky and temperamental ability. The Scarlet Witch had it, but she lacked _finesse,_ and that Dr. Strange man was too unnerved by reality warping magic to even try and train her or Billy properly. Kid Loki was happy to offer their help and advice when it was needed. Especially if it kept Billy from telling Thor where they were.

Presently, Billy is standing in the small apartment Kid Loki has acquired for themselves, with his shapeshifter boyfriend beside him. Kid Loki notes the raven on Billy’s shoulder, and the large bear-looking dog at Teddy’s side. Their own daemon is unusual, they know. It shifts, much like the Loki of old did. It is currently a grey wolf, but has spent time as an owl, a white raven, and an arctic fox. Kid Loki is intrigued by it, as much as they are unsettled.

“So,” Kid Loki says, fingers steepled together, “You and your mother can’t seem to track the spell, hm? Something of this size should be easy for the two of you together. That _is_ unusual.”

“We know,” says Billy, exasperated, “I was wondering if you had picked anything up, or sensed something. Or if you had _any_ idea where this spell could have originated from.”

Kid Loki makes a humming sound in the back of their throat, tapping their fingers together and tilting their head from side to side.

“Well, if it’s _any_ idea you’re looking for,” They ask, grinning at the way Billy’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Then I have a question for you, young Master Kaplan. Just _what_ were you thinking about last night?”

Billy stiffens. “What?”

“I mean it.” Stresses Kid Loki, rising to their feet. “Did you have any vague thoughts that could have potentially led to everyone’s souls manifesting outside of their bodies? Anything at all? Think hard now, this is important.”

Teddy’s expression is looking a little stormy. His bear-dog is close to snarling. “Loki-,”

“I’m being serious,” they interrupt, hands fisted on their hips. “I tried a tracing spell of my own. And do you know where it led me?”

They raise a finger and point at Billy, “Here,” and another finger, towards the window, and at the Avengers Tower visible in the distance, “And there.”

Billy’s expression flickers, and his shoulders hunch up defensively. “We didn’t-,”

“Not consciously,” Kid Loki emphases, “But if both of you were thinking the same thoughts at the same time with enough vigour, it’s possible you simultaneously implemented a spell. You’re connected closely enough. She’s your soul-mother, and she’s responsible for your existence in this reality. Additionally, it would explain why tracing the spell rebounded back on you. Because the two of you _were_ the source. The trace had nowhere to go but where you were. So, Billy, tell me,” They grin, eyes glittering with green light. “Just _what_ were you and your mother thinking about last night?”

\--

 

Billy : okay

Billy : so

Billy : bad news

Wanda : Oh no.

Wanda : What is it?

Billy : so

Billy : they who shall not be named thinks it was us

Wanda : Of course they do.

Billy : no I mean

Billy : they uh

Billy  okay remember how I said I was REASONABLY SURE it wasn’t me?

Wanda : Billy

Billy : Well last night Teddy and I kind of had a bad fight.

Billy : and I may have gone on and on about how annoying it is when people aren’t upfront about how they feel and it would be easier if no one could hide anything so people didn’t get into arguments over stupid reasons and misunderstandings

Billy : we didn’t make up til this morning

Billy : so I was stewing over that all night

Billy : KL said if it WAS us, it would have had to have been both of us. You and me.

Billy : so they said to ask if you had been thinking something similar?

Billy : …

Billy : Wanda?

Wanda : Dammit.

Billy : I’ll take that as a yes.

Wanda : the Vision.

Wanda : I was upset that people were still debating whether or not he was a ‘person’.

Wanda : I know this is a different reality, that we’re not as close here, but I know from my memories that he is a person, with feelings and emotions like everyone else.

Wanda : Stark may have said something particularly insensitive last night.

Wanda : and I may have gone to bed wishing we could clearly see the souls of others, so there was no more guesswork.

Billy : Dammit.

Wanda : I already said that.

Billy : I’m saying it again.

Billy : so uh

Billy : my place or yours for the counter spell?

Wanda : ugh.

Billy : maybe I’ll text Kate and see if she can let us into one of her dad’s old warehouses. More space there.

Wanda : UGH

Billy : I know it sucks it’s terrible

Billy : Strange can literally NEVER find out

Billy : His eyebrows will never let us hear the end of it.

Wanda : I certainly won’t be telling him.

Billy : Alright I’ll text Kate and let you know what she says.

Billy : oh, Wanda?

Wanda : ??

Billy : does he have one

Billy : the Vision I mean

Billy : ?

Wanda : Yes.

Wanda : Yes he does.

Wanda : A beautiful red gold dragonfly. It rested on my finger for a moment.

Billy : :))))

Billy : I ship it.

Wanda : Oh shush.

\--

On a sunny day in mid-May, the inhabitants of Earth woke up to find themselves incapable of being alone. Animal companions, of amazing variety, that could not leave their sides. That spoke to them, and _only_ them. That had names, and feelings. Creatures that the afflicted humans felt a deep, unbreakable attachment to. So vivid and strong that being separated more than a few metres was agony.

As far as curses go, it had the potential to have horrendous ramifications. New ways of torture, new ways to make people vulnerable, new ways to hurt.

But on the ground, and in practice, most people found it very, very cool.

The following day, the inhabitants awoke to find that their animal companions had disappeared. That the ‘curse’ had been lifted. An official press statement from The Avengers, stated that the spellcaster had been found, and the magic reversed. Further information was classified.

Many people were relieved, many felt bereft, having enjoyed the sensation of never truly being alone. But most could agree that it was better, safer, to live without the ‘daemons’.

“It certainly sounds like it was an interesting phenomena,” says Doctor Strange, stirring his drink, “I was meditating in another dimension, so I’m afraid I wasn’t affected. I apologize for being absent. It seems I missed several of your calls.”

“Mm,” says Wanda, sipping her tea.

“It’s very odd though,” continues the Sorcerer, “That the spell appeared so suddenly, affected _everyone,_ and then disappeared. It required so much power, and there was so little malevolence behind it.”

“Mm,” agrees Wanda, eyes off to the side.

“Truly an odd thing,” Doctor Strange says, keen gaze locked on the witch across from him, “Almost as odd and unprecedented as rewriting reality itself, I’d say.”

Wanda downs her tea in one swift movement, before setting the cup on the table and rising.

“Excuse me,” she apologizes, “I just remembered, I have to meet Pietro.” She smiles thinly. “But I look forward to continuing this conversation at another time.”

“As do I,” replies Doctor Strange, gaze unrelenting, “Perhaps we should invite Billy along as well.”

Wanda’s smile doesn’t waver. She nods amicably before teleporting herself away.

\--

Wanda : STRANGE IS ON TO US. 

Billy : OH DAMMIT 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This took so long to write. I enjoyed it, but I'm exhausted. Uploading a format-heavy fic at in the 3 in the morning is not advised. 
> 
> Re: especially since the format might fart and delete 90% of the fic! causing you to have to delete and start from the beginning with all the formatting! again! oh my god! I'm going to upload it with the pics and emojis and then go through and change the colour of the text again.. ughggudhfughfhg
> 
> REre: I determined the cause! It was the emojis. damn them. damn those emojis. so now they are gone. now I shall edit in the colour.
> 
> Rerere: COLOUR EDITED. and now it is all done.
> 
> I hope people enjoyed this though. I hope people find the time to tell me how they feel about it. Wow, it's almost 10,000 words, haha. I'm so mad that I had to delete it and start the formatting over. do you know how much formatting this involved.


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